


In Every Voice He'd Ever Had

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Thirteen [1]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Camp Nanowrimo, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, Community: trope_bingo, Death, Established Relationship, Fluff, Immortality, Immortals, Implied/Referenced Possibility of Self-Harm, Kissing, M/M, No Attempts or Ideation - Concern Only, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-War, Public Display of Affection, Reincarnation, Reincarnation Romance, Reunions, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, Trope Bingo Round 13, Well of All Sparks, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 16:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Everyone worried when Jazz didn't seem to grieve Prowl's death for long. But Jazz knew he'd see Prowl again. The only thing he had to do was wait.





	In Every Voice He'd Ever Had

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://www.trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 13](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TropeBingo_RoundThirteen/profile) (Prompt: Immortality/Reincarnation) and [Camp Nanowrimo](http://campnanowrimo.org) July 2019.

After Prowl's death on the shuttle, just prior to the Battle of Autobot City, the surviving Autobots and the humans who knew Jazz braced for his reaction. But Jazz took the news of Prowl's death far more casually than anyone ever thought he would. He grieved, of course he did, but the mourning period didn't last for nearly as long as everyone expected. 

Well, everyone except Rodimus Prime and Kup, it turned out. Rodimus couldn't explain why he wasn't surprised any better than, 'I have a feeling.' Kup just shrugged and said, 'it's not my story to tell,' which just made everyone _more_ curious. No one could remember a time Jazz and Prowl _hadn't_ been together and it felt like Jazz's grief should have run longer. His quarters were quiet for a month or so then the faint bass vibrations from his music started up again. He started hanging out and partying again, and it was as if Prowl had never died.

"Why you Jazz not more sad for him Prowl?" Grimlock demanded one day. Jazz had just danced through the commissary to join a table of mecha fresh back to Cybertron from Earth. He was cheerful, laughing and joking, and not at all like a mech who'd recently lost the love of their life. "Him Prowl not dead long."

"Can't be sad all the time, m'mech," Jazz said, tipping his chair back on two legs so he could look way, way up at Grimlock. "Besides, I'll see Prowler again, sometime. We ain't gonna be apart forever, and I can wait."

"What you mean by that?" Grimlock wanted to know. "Me Grimlock not like the way it sounds."

"Don't gotta worry about me, Grimlock, m'mech," Jazz said cheerfully, raising his glass in a toast. "I'm gonna be just fine."

Autobots were and had always been gossips so word of Jazz and Grimlock's talk got around to First Aid. Given Jazz's recent loss and the tenor of the conversation, the young medic felt some concern. First Aid brought the subject up carefully when Jazz came into Medical with a damaged rear fender he'd gotten racing with some of the Throttlebots. First Aid talked while he worked, probably worried that Jazz would make some excuse to leave otherwise.

"I heard about what you said to Grimlock in the commissary the other day," First Aid said gently. "Jazz, is there anything you'd like to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

"Nope," Jazz said casually. "Just waiting to see Prowl again."

"Alright, Jazz," First Aid said in a soothing tone, still diligently working away. "Did you have any idea of when that might be?"

Jazz chuckled. "Do I got a plan to get myself into the Matrix with him, you mean? Nah, mech. Don't gotta worry about _that_. I ain't gonna die. Don't want to and don't need to, just gotta wait."

"Okay," First Aid said carefully, finishing up the repair. "You can transform now. Can you tell me a little more about what you mean by waiting?"

Jazz did so, stretching a little. "I mean, Prowl's gonna come back. Re-emerge from the Well. Be reincarnated. Whatever you wanna call it, Aid."

"Well, it's good to be positive, Jazz, but – what if Prowl doesn't come back?" First Aid asked, still being careful.

Jazz shrugged. "First time for everything, I guess, but Prowl's always come back to me before. It's a different structure, of course, but the same spark. The same Prowl."

"Okay, and how many times has Prowl come back before?" First Aid asked. "Once? Twice?"

"Prowler probably knows exactly, but I stopped counting after the third time," Jazz admitted. "Didn't see much point in keeping up a count after that. Prowl says that he ain't gonna stay in the Well till I go back there and he can stay with me, and that don't seem like a thing that's gonna happen."

"Jazz…"

"Did you ever look through my medical files, Aid?" Jazz asked, abruptly changing to a more serious tone. " _Really_ look? 'Cause I should be dead a dozen times over, and Ratchet was brilliant, but he wasn't actually Primus himself no matter how many sparks he kept outta His hands. Don't know if Ratchet recorded everything but he put down a lot. Ratchet's been looking after me since before the war. Prowl too."

"Jazz, I-I'm not sure what you're saying."

"I'll answer whatever questions you've got," Jazz told him. "Sure, no problem. But you should read my file first, 'cause you're not gonna believe me until you do."

First Aid couldn't think of anything else to ask just then, nor did he have a reason to keep Jazz in Medical. The medic finished up the appointment by assuring Jazz he would be there if Jazz ever wanted to talk and watched him stroll out.

First Aid was inclined to dismiss what Jazz had said as a manifestation of grief of some kind. It was unknown for someone to believe a deceased loved one would return, though usually that happened when there was no body. Jazz had seen Prowl's body, readied it to be interred in the Autobot Mausoleum with the other war dead. Jazz didn't seem to be self-destructive though so there was no reason, at that time, to do more than keep an optic on him.

The medic didn't do more with Jazz's medical file than record the repair. Not right away, at least. First Aid did notice that it was a _large_ file, but then again, it had been an extremely long war, and Jazz had undertaken many dangerous missions. It wasn't surprising that there'd be quite a lot of entries. The file was older than the war, but that wasn't surprising either; if Ratchet had been Jazz's primary care physician, he would have brought Jazz's records with him when he enlisted. First Aid left the file open for a while after he'd made the most recent entry, considering reading more, then finally saved and closed it. Jazz had lived a long time and come through a lot, but that didn't mean he'd live forever or survive everything. Just that he'd survived everything so far.

First Aid left the file alone for another two mega-cycles before his curiosity got the better of him. Repairs were cross-referenced by severity, and First Aid pulled up the most severe ones. None of them were easy to read but nor were they worse than many of the other things First Aid had seen and treated. Jazz hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he should be dead a dozen times over – a dozen times at _least_. He'd even been declared dead on a couple of occasions when Ratchet hadn't been the attending physician. They…could have been mistakes. Every doctor made them from time to time.

But First Aid reviewed those entries with great attention, and as best he could tell, they hadn't. No processor activity, no spark-spin, his transformation cog offline, his paint fading to gray as the low-level electrical current running through his armor failed and the nanites lost power. Then, with no explanation or further medical intervention, everything came back online. Jazz survived. Not without consequences, of course – he'd had replacements and physiotherapy enough for three mecha – but he was alive. Suddenly the standing order from Ratchet to never, ever take Jazz to the morgue no matter what made more sense; First Aid had thought it was a Special Operations requirement he wasn’t cleared to know about, that the body was awaiting the retrieval of classified data or tech. Now it looked more like Ratchet just hadn't wanted Jazz to scare some poor attendant or visiting friend or relative when he came back online.

Curious now, First Aid reviewed Prowl's file. It didn't go back nearly as far as Jazz's, but there was a link to a zipped folder stored in Ratchet's personal archives. As Ratchet's apprentice, and now successor, First Aid had access to those now, and he read them thoroughly. The zipped files were for different mecha, the different sparking dates gave _that_ away, but each mech was named Prowl, and they all had the same spark signature. Ratchet had recorded his belief that it was the same spark, returning from the Well each time, even if he did start a new file for each new structure. Each new body of Prowl's.

First Aid didn't want to believe it. It seemed too far-fetched, too improbable. But spark signatures…those didn't lie. _Ratchet_ wouldn't lie, not about something like this, and definitely not in files no one else had ever been intended to see.

It was hard to find Jazz in a quiet moment or place but First Aid managed by pulling him back into Medical for a 'routine check' of his most recent repairs. Jazz, of course, wasn't fooled in the least.

"Took a look at the records, did you?" Jazz asked knowingly as he hopped up on the gurney. "Mine and Prowl's?"

First Aid gave up any pretense at checking the repair. "Yes. I just don't understand _how_? Or _why_?"

Jazz shrugged. "Dunno how. As for why it took a few tries, but…you know how you describe someone stubborn by saying they'd argue with Primus himself?"

First Aid stared at him. "You're joking."

"Nope. Not about Primus and not about Prowl being that stubborn. Prowl's always been brilliant, one of the smartest mechs I've ever met, and," Jazz said, "I've met a _lot_. If anyone could put together a reasoned argument to convince a god, it'd be him."

"So…how old are you?" First Aid wanted to know, and hastened to add, "if you don't mind me asking."

"Old," Jazz replied. "Don't know how old, exactly. Records of my sparking date are lost and my first chronometer didn't record dates, just elapsed time per shift. The Quintessons sparked me and my batch back after they figured out Vector Sigma, and I've been going ever since. None of my batch-mates came out like I did so I guess it's just some kind of fluke of my spark.

"Prowl was in the batch after me, but we got assigned to the same work detail. He did engineering, I did labour, and it sure wasn't safe work. The Quints didn't much care who lived and who died cuz they could just make more of us, right? No one knew anything was different about either of us until this big industrial accident took out the site we were at. Prowl died, I should've. I got repaired and kept online for the Quints to experiment on and they figured out pretty quick they couldn't kill me, no matter what they did."

First Aid's visor paled with horror around the edges. "Jazz! I'm so sorry!"

"'S okay, kiddo," Jazz reassured him. "Was a long, _long_ damn time ago. Yeah, it sucked big time, but it stopped bothering me right about the time we kicked those five-faced fraggers off-planet for good. It's amazing how therapeutic killing your torturers can be. Anyway, the same time this was happening, Alpha Trion and Beta had the rebellion starting up. The facility I was held in was one of the first places they raided. I got rescued from the lab is was being held in by Prowler himself, and that was the first I knew 'bout his whole deal."

"How did he convince you it was him?" First Aid wondered. "Or – or did you just know?"

"Little bit of both. Prowl didn't look the same of course – different model, had some alterations done so he could fight – and he didn't sound the same." Jazz smiled fondly, visor going softly lit. "But he told me things only Prowl would know and when he got me free and fuelled up, and we shared sparks again…yeah, then I knew I wasn't just fooling myself. I'd wanted it to be Prowl really badly, y'know."

"And it was," First Aid murmured softly, clasping his hands in front of him.

"It was," Jazz agreed. "The first time we thought it was just a fluke, luck, something giving us a second chance. We didn't know, and Prowl didn't remember any of his time between lives, not that time. He remembered his previous life, and he knew that I was alive, though. He's always known those. There've been more accidents, wars, he's even been murdered a couple times, but he always comes back."

"So, it's that he argues Primus into letting him come back, with all his memories? But why Prowl, why no one else?" First Aid wanted to know. "Are you – are you his anchor, or something?"

"Who says there's no one else? Could just be no one else I know about. Or, people stopped coming back 'cause of the war. Who knows?" Jazz spread his hands. "I think it might be a little bit of both."

"Or no one else argues with Primus, or at least not as well," First Aid suggested.

Jazz laughed. "Could be! I love the mech, but damn can he argue! Anyway, there's no need to worry 'bout little old me." Jazz flashed a grin. "Not gonna try and get to the Well. Don't need to. I'm just gonna wait here for Prowl to come and find me again."

"Oh," First Aid said, meaning it, "I hope he comes back to you soon."

"Me too, but I'll wait as long as it takes."

* * *

A full vorn passed, and still, Jazz waited. Prowl's return depended on a structure being ready for his spark, and before they could begin rebuilding their population, they had to rebuild their planet. It was a massive job, and Jazz worked as hard as anyone else. Rodimus Prime and Optimus Prime ran Cybertron jointly until things could be handed over to a democratically elected civilian government. Jazz, who remembered all the mistakes of the past, gave them advice on what to do and what to avoid and hoped that this time the mortals listened.

Optimus didn't remember much from his time in the Matrix. Jazz wasn't surprised by that. Optimus hadn't come back as often as Prowl had and it had taken a couple times before Prowl started to remember anything. Jazz would admit to himself that he was a little disappointed there'd been no message from Prowl, or something or someone on the other side, though. That would've been nice.

Jazz was there when the first new mecha since the end of the war were brought online by Vector Sigma. Prowl wasn't among them, but Jazz refused to be disappointed. Maybe he had to wait longer, but this was still a day to celebrate, and no one celebrated like the Jazz-Meister! This wasn't the longest Prowl'd ever gone without coming back, and it was no time at all in the life of even a regular, mortal, Cybertronian. Jazz didn't even need to be there when Prowl was sparked into a new structure again. Prowl knew perfectly well that Jazz would be waiting, and that he just needed to find him.

Prowl finding him was going to be easy enough, at least. Jazz was well known, centrally located, and made sure he was reachable, not locked up in a stuffy office all the time. He had wound up as the Minister of Culture, Heritage, and Tourism, that last for if and when they could get some kind of real tourism up and running. Funny how people didn't wanna come to a planet that'd been torn by civil war for millions of years. Not in significant numbers, anyway. There'd been an influx of disaster tourists early on, which he hadn't liked, but Cybertron _needed_ the galactic credits so while he hadn't actively promoted it, he hadn't discouraged it either. Humans had come in droves as volunteers to help their Autobot friends, working hard and even wanting to settle, and he'd liked that better.

Jazz worked, partied, danced, kept collecting music, and waited, patiently, for Prowl.

Another vorn passed, but it still wasn't the longest he'd been without Prowl. Jazz missed his beloved deeply, as always, but he kept himself busy. The small human settlement on Cybertron was well established now, and he visited it regularly, keeping up with the families he'd known since their ancestors had come to help rebuild the war-torn planet. Sometimes he could still hang out with the ancestors, too. Humans were living longer and longer, augmenting themselves with technology more and more. It hadn't been easy, putting an Earth habitat on Cybertron, but they'd managed. There'd only been a couple of accidents, early on: turbofoxes, it turned out, thought the human's greenhouses made excellent habitats and they defended them fiercely. But they'd managed to get that under control, securing the greenhouses better and trapping and releasing the turbofoxes. Mirage had some kind of group working to restore the turbofox population, and they'd helped with rehoming the beasts.

Jazz would've thought Hound would end up in charge of restoring Cybertron's native flora and fauna, which had been driven nearly extinct by the time peace came. Jazz hadn't expected it to be Mirage, but that was where the ex-noble's conservation efforts with turbofoxes had led. It was always interesting to see where people's paths led them, Jazz found.

Hound and Bluestreak had stayed on Earth, for now, and visited Cybertron occasionally, though Blue had been making noise about coming back for longer. Praxus was scheduled to be rebuilt, and the sniper wanted to be part of it. Hound, of course, would go anywhere Bluestreak did. Jazz understood that extremely well.

A third vorn passed, then a fourth. No sign of Prowl. Cybertron was still healing, but it thrived. The mecha who remembered the injustices that had lead to the wars worked hard to keep them from surfacing again. It hadn't been easy, putting Autobots and Decepticons together and asking them to play nice but Optimus had insisted it was necessary. It got easier, of course. Cybertron's society wasn't perfect, wasn't perfectly just, was still made of mecha with all their joys and problems and always would be but the war had been _so long_. Four vorn didn't erase nine million years, not by a long shot, but they did their best.

Turned out Soundwave had a sense of humour. Who knew?

Vorn number five rolled around. First Aid, still Jazz's primary physician, asked Jazz during one of his appointments if he wasn't starting to get worried.

"Not yet," Jazz said. "I mean, it's getting up there, but he's always come back before. Got no reason to think he won't this time."

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do," First Aid offered.

"I'll do that," Jazz promised. "Gonna let him know you looked after me, y'know. He'll appreciate it."

On a different night, Grimlock dropped by. He'd dropped the 'me Grimlock, you Jazz' style of talking in public about four and a half vorn ago. Turned out he'd always been able to turn it on and off, but he'd found the Autobots were less threatened by him and his brothers if they thought they weren't that bright. Learning that had stung and so far as Jazz knew, apologies from the Earth-based Autobots were still rolling in on occasion.

"You know how it sounds when you talk about waiting for Prowl, right?" Grimlock said bluntly. "It's been over four centuries," Grimlock had kept the habit of using Earth time units, "and people are starting to wonder how long you're going to keep this up."

Jazz shrugged. "I'll keep it up till Prowl gets back. However long that is."

"Snarl thinks you need to get laid," Grimlock told him matter-of-factly.

Jazz laughed. "Tell Snarl I said 'thanks but no thanks.' All I need to do is wait."

Jazz was almost at his sixth vorn of waiting when he started to wonder what was taking so damn long.

"You teasing me, babe?" he murmured to Prowl's holo, on its table next to his favourite chair. "Making me wait? Or was the last life the last time, and you've done whatever job you needed to do? Sure be nice to know. I'll keep going on with or without you, just wish I knew which it was going to be." Jazz kissed his fingertips and touched them to the holo, watching the projection wash over them. "Miss you, m'love."

The holo didn't reply, of course, but Jazz hadn't forgotten the sound of Prowl's voice, and he could imagine the answer, in every voice his lover ever had: _I miss you, too._

Still, if any stubborn fragger could talk himself back out of the Well, in any voice, that stubborn fragger was Prowl as he'd proved time and time again. Jazz refused to lose faith.

Jazz's faith was rewarded when, six and a half vorn in as he was leaving his office for the day, he saw a mech in a sleek, modern, alt-mode pull up in the transformation lane at the bottom of the ramp. Jazz spent the time between the mech turning into the lane and the time they transformed admiring their curves but didn't stop walking toward the street. The mech he'd been admiring headed up the ramp toward him, obviously moving to intercept Jazz but that wasn't unusual. Jazz was pretty hands-on in his work and lots of mecha, humans, and aliens recognized him and often wanted to say 'hi.'

Still, Jazz was pretty sure he knew this mech from somewhere, but the structure and face just weren't ringing any bells. Had to be something, though? Paint? Well, black and red with white highlights weren't exactly uncommon. Armour? Heavy civilian-grade, curvy and aerodynamic. Mech'd be fast and hard to catch in either mode. Face? Well, that was sure good-looking, even if it was pretty new, almost like the mech was right out of the VS chamber.

No. No, not 'almost.' It was _exactly_ like that. Jazz finally recognized the mech's specific design, he'd just seen the approvals for it earlier in the stellar-cycle. This mech _was_ new, had to be from the first batch of that design to be brought online which meant he couldn't know Jazz even if he _looked_ at him like – like Jazz was all there was, and -

Jazz ran down the ramp at full speed and threw himself into Prowl's arms. Prowl was taller in this form, so probably stronger, but he was unused to this body. He caught Jazz, overbalanced, and they went crashing to the ground, Jazz laughing with joy the whole way down.

Jazz kissed his returned love senseless, not giving a single damn about what anyone thought of the Minister of Culture and et cetera making out with someone on the ground in front of the government offices.

"What took you so long?" Jazz asked when they finally paused.

Prowl smiled up at him. "My apologies, Jazz. He was very stubborn this time around. I won out in the end, though."

"I knew you would," Jazz told him. "I told them all you would, no matter how long it took." He ran his fingers over Prowl's cheek. "Ready to go home, babe?"

"With you, always."

* * *

Jazz and Prowl spent mega-cycles alone together in their home. Jazz got Prowl caught up on everything that had happened while he was gone and _thoroughly_ acquainted himself with Prowl's new frame.

Prowl's spark was the same as it had always been, from their first time behind stacks of supplies, stolen when the Quint supervisor wasn’t looking, to the last merge before Jazz had left for Moonbase Two.

Even eternal lovers didn't want to stay cooped up alone together forever, though. Jazz wasn't the only one Prowl had missed and, well, Autobots did love to gossip. Optimus Prime was the first one to visit, and he just laughed when Prowl held out a hand for him to shake.

"I'm not your commander anymore," Optimus reminded Prowl, wrapping his arms around the still-shorter mech. "I'm an old friend, and old friends get hugs."

"Of course they do," Prowl said, and even partly muffled by Optimus's torso Jazz knew from his voice that he was smiling. "It's good to see you again, Optimus."

"And you, Prowl. Welcome back."

Kup dropped by, and he did settle for a handshake, but then, he and Prowl had done this before.

"Good to see you, lad," Kup said gruffly. "Wore the big guy down again, did you?"

"I made a persuasive argument," Prowl corrected. "As I always do."

"I dunno," Jazz put in. "I like the idea that he just bugs Primus till he gets sent back so a god can get some peace and quiet."

"Suppose you can't argue with what works, though," Kup said. "Take care of yourselves, Prowl, Jazz."

Grimlock's welcoming clap on the back nearly made Prowl stumble, but it was heartfelt, even if they hadn't been close the last time Prowl had been alive.

"Guess I can tell Snarl you're finally taking his advice?" Grimlock asked Jazz.

Jazz chuckled, agreed, and wouldn't explain why to Prowl.

"Is there anyone else who might come back?" First Aid asked part-way through his visit. He'd insisted on scanning Prowl a couple of times to verify his spark signature and then he'd sat in stunned silence for a klik or so. "I mean, anyone else who-who wants to?"

"I don't know," Prowl answered truthfully. "I've never met anyone else who came back, not with their memories intact to tell me, anyway."

"If there's any mech other than Prowl who'd run Primus to ground by arguing," Jazz put in, "it'd be Ratchet."

"Oh, I," First Aid fumbled his words, looking down at his hands. "I didn't just mean Ratchet."

"Yeah, but mostly Ratchet. It's okay," Jazz continued. "I still miss him too. Plus, it's okay to feel it's not fair that I get Prowler back and everyone else has to wait, y'know."

"I am happy for you!" First Aid blurted out. "I am, it's just – I had a lot of things I wanted to say to him."

"Ratchet was a pretty perceptive mech," Jazz said comfortingly. "I'm sure he knew."

"If it helps," Prowl added, "I've been told – many times – that 'till all are one' will happen, and I think my source is reliable."

"That's good to know," First Aid murmured. "Thanks, Prowl, Jazz."

Once First Aid had left, Jazz dragged Prowl out onto their balcony to lounge and look at a Cybertronian sky that was peaceful at last. The new difference in their sizes and Prowl's flatter chest meant Jazz fit more neatly into his lap than he had in a long time. He could sit on Prowl's lap, leaning against Prowl's chest, and look up while Prowl's arms went around him and Prowl's chin rested gently atop his helm. It was as close to paradise as Jazz had known in, well, a lifetime.

"Do you think we ever will meet any of the sparks we knew before in new lives again?" Jazz asked. "Had a lot of friends who would've liked to see Cybertron all restored and peaceful."

"I like to think so," Prowl said, holding Jazz a little tighter. "We may not know who they are, though, or vice versa."

"Huh, yeah." Jazz was silent for a moment, considering. "Might be for the best, if they don't remember. Lotta nasty slag's gone down over the past hundred-ten-thousand vorn or so. Less they want to hold on to their memories like you do. 'Course, you probably only get away with that 'cause you're such a stubborn fragger," he teased affectionately.

Prowl was smiling, Jazz could tell. "Yes, but I'm _your_ stubborn fragger. Now and always."

"Now and always," Jazz promised, and together they lay and watched the stars.

### Epilogue – Some Time Later

The newest batch of mecha sparked by Vector Sigma was, by the looks of them, headed for careers in medicine and/or emergency services. One, red and white like the rest, broke free from the group the nano-klik the welcome speeches were finished and strode over to Optimus Prime. Experienced mecha and newbuilds alike scattered out of his way, as if sensing he had no time for their nonsense.

"Optimus," the new mech said gruffly, clasping the Prime's hand. "Good to see you again.

"Now, where's that apprentice of mine?"

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be Jazz/Prowl. Then Ratchet bulled his way in there at the end. Oops?
> 
> The working title was, briefly, _Immortality, Reincarnation, and the Art of Being a Stubborn Fragger_  
>  \---  
> Sep 08/19 - Fluffy little glimpse of post-reincarnation life can be found [over here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535557/chapters/48838121).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For Love Reforms Vitality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20208604) by [Hours_Gone_By](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By)




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